


I Know

by orphan_account



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Kissing, Angst, Angst and Porn, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Bisexual T’Challa, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death Fix, Choking, Consensual Non-Consent, Courtesy of Erik, Cousin Incest, Crying During Sex, Death Threats, Denial of Feelings, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, Erik Has Feelings, Erik Killmonger Lives, Explicit Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Facials, Fights, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Smut, GAY Erik Stevens, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I should probably tag this for noncon bc that was rougher than I originally intended, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, It’ll be there, Like More Than Usual, M/M, More Fluff Than Originally Intended, Mostly Canon Compliant, Obsessive Behavior, Okoye is lowkey my favorite character, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reluctant Masochism, Sadism, Sex, Slow Burn, Tension, Very Light Fluff, and also I feel gross, angry angst, i just hate sex tags so, probably, sorry boys, sorry y’all, there’s no tag for angry angst?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-04-04 03:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14010828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In the aftermath, T’Challa makes a decision. Erik doesn’t get to.OR,T’Challa keeps Erik alive against everyone’s advice, Erik has increasingly more internal conflict, and Shuri and Nakia have a few choice words for the King of Wakanda.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based off of a song but very much not a song fic  
> I don’t know if it’s even about Black Panther but it’s in a black panther playlist so idk y’all

Light came like an avalanche down upon deaf eyes, and Erik winced. His conscious was still spinning from-

He vomited. Once, twice, and he had to hold himself up on shaky arms and clammy palms.

He took in several deep breaths, nose wrinkling, and rubbed his eyes, looking around. The room was a cascade of grays, ranging anywhere from heather to blue, but Erik’s ears were still ringing. Bumpy walls and ceiling made him cringe, and he looked to the center of the room. A bed- plain, sheets a mess- was there. Nothing to write home about.

He turned to stare at one of the walls, and walked towards it. He needed to touch it, to know it was real, to know anything was real.

* * *

T’Challa paced, hands busy with something he wasn’t looking at, when he jumped at a knock on his bedroom door.

”Who is there?” The door opened in response.

”It’s Shuri, brother,” the girl before him said, and T’Challa felt his heart in his throat.

”Shuri, how- have you- where-”

”He is fine.” T’Challa nodded, not looking at Shuri then, but staring out his bedroom window, eyes locked on something far in the distance.

”Would you like to see him?” T’Challa’s attention turned back, but his open mouth said none of the words it intended, said less than the rapid nodding of his head.

* * *

Shuri walked over to her console and made a swiping hand motion, the wall next to it disappearing with hexagons into clear glass, revealing a discheveled looking man. T’Challa, standing behind his sister, took a step back, expression becoming blank.

”He cannot see us, correct?” Shuri waved a hand and nodded dismissively, looking over a lengthy list of information.

”N’Jadaka has only been awake for about an hour. He has... vomited twice.” T’Challa frowned, eyes still focused on the empty gaze of the man in the room.

”...Vital are normal, however he appears disoriented. His elapsed time spent here while unconscious is-” Shuri turned back to her brother, raising an eyebrow. “Are you listening to me?”

T’Challa reached out a hand and touched the glass, his shoulders tensed.

”Why is he locked up here in this room instead of being observed on the normal bed in your lab?” Shuri took a deep breath, rolling her eyes.

“I asked you how you wanted me to keep him and you told me to do what I thought best. That is what this is- You could have told me otherwise for the past two months yet have done nothing!” 

T’Challa said nothing, the hand not busied by glass curling and uncurling. Shuri sighed.

”Fine. Be that way, brother. Do not even try to defend your actions.” T’Challa turned to look at her, his hand slipping from the glass as he walked closer to his sister. Ignoring her veiled criticism, he pressed her.

”Why is this the location you chose? Answer me.”

”I had to, he- he is dangerous and could injure someone even while restrained. He needed to be on his own while he physically recovered.”

”He is not-” T’Challa sighed, shaking his head. Shuri took a long look at her brother, brow furrowed. T’Challa had turned back to stare at Erik, hands clasped together in front of him.

”May- May I speak to him?” Shuri laughed, and T’Challa whirled around, eyes strained.

”The King of Wakanda, asking me for permission,” Shuri mused, eyes brightening.

”It is your lab! I did not want to be rude,” T’Challa gasped, hands spread in some dramatic gesture. Shuri just shook her head, grinning.

”Yes, you are permitted to speak to him, my liege,” she said, it becoming T’Challa turn to roll his eyes. “Knock yourself out.”

”Why would I want to make myself unconscious,” T’Challa asked, his sister standing.

”Just go!” Shuri laughed, pushing T’Challa towards the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: https://youtu.be/42GFTwoWr8E
> 
> Support the song’s original creator, all his music is actually amazing:  
> https://snapchat.com/add/kalebmitchell  
> https://kalebmitchell.com/  
> https://twitter.com/kalebmitchell  
> https://soundcloud.com/kalebmitchell  
> https://instagram.com/kalebmitchell
> 
> Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL3-sRm8xAzY8BUg6VajTUZ0ieC8vL3MzF


	2. Chapter 2

Erik looked up when a towel was thrown at him.

”Here is a towel, clean yourself off, N’Jadaka.”

T’Challa saw the look in Erik’s eyes and took a step back. The man looked down at the towel before closing his eyes, expression twisting.

”I apologize, would you rather I refer to you as Erik?” T’Challa was further taken aback when Erik laughed.

”Really? That’s what you’re apologizin’ for?” T’Challa frowned.

”I do not know what you mean by that.” Erik stood up and wiped his face off before discarding the towel altogether. He took several steps towards T’Challa, eyes blazing.

”You apologize for the fucking  _name_ you’re callin’ me and not for the  **prison** you’re callin’ me that name in?” T’Challa stayed silent, unconsciously squaring his shoulders. Erik hissed, grabbing T’Challa by the collar.

”You’re a coward, you know that? A coward. Too afraid of somebody else’s death to even let ‘em die when they want to.” T’Challa took a deep breath and held his own hands at his sides firmly. Erik’s lips curled back in a grin, golden canines glinting in the pristine lights. He leaned by T’Challa’s ear.

”Your daddy had the exact opposite problem. He’d fuckin’ kill someone who had somethin’ to live for.” T’Challa reacted, pushing Erik off of him, and Erik’s grin widened. A new voice called to him from his other ear.

”Brother,” Shuri said. “I think you should leave now.” T’Challa nodded back at the solid wall behind him and turned to leave, ignoring Erik when he spit in T’Challa’s direction.

* * *

”Tell me, my son. How is your... your visitor doing in health?” T’Challa stood from his throne, staring up at the ceiling.

”Why is he  _my_ visitor?” The Queen Mother held a grimace, the empty throne room around her seemingly staring back at the two of them.

”I do not want to appear as if I doubt you or your decisions, but you _were_ the only one who appealed for N’Jadaka’s life.” T’Challa shook his head, walking towards the door and stopping.

”I still do not understand. No man can truly be evil. All men can change. There is no reason why he should not be given a second chance.” Ramonda nodded solemnly, looking down at her hands.

”You know that he has not yet stood trial, for the past two months-”

”For the past two months he has been recovering!” The Queen Mother looked up at her son with a sharp glare, and T’Challa retreated.

”I- I apologize. I simply am of the opinion that we cannot send a half dead man to trial.” Ramonda didn’t respond immediately, but turned to look out the large windowed wall, T’Challa relaxing where he stood.

”And of his health? Is N’Jadaka still half dead?” T’Challa winced, pausing to choose his words.

”...No. He is... He is  _physically_ recovered, but I would not say he is in his best state of mind. He is still visibly dealing with some of the trauma he has faced, and I do not think I would consider him entirely healed.” Ramonda nodded slowly, finally turning back to look at T’Challa, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

”My son, I know that this has been a difficult recovery period of all of us, but you must say something to the council. You have to make a decision soon. All of Wakanda has been waiting.” She paused.

”I know, however, that you do not seek me out for more logical advice, so I will always be here for you to talk to.” T’Challa nodded, bringing his mother into an embrace.

Even as he left the throne room, his mother’s words spun in his head.

 

_”All of Wakanda has been waiting.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost poured my milk b4 my cereal, I am lost
> 
> Edit: sorry for calling y’all cowards, I hope you each have a great day, and I would be super happy if you could leave a comment about any typos there are, or about if the character dialogue is good or nah, or just about what you had for breakfast!  
> thanks


	3. Chapter 3

Shuri ran a hand through her hair, sighing.

”Are you absolutely sure about this, brother? You saw how he reacted to you last time, and this is...” T’Challa nodded, taking steady breaths.

”I am afraid that I do not have a choice.” Shuri shrugged, swiping her hand in the air, eyes on Erik, who was sitting cross legged on the floor of his room.

* * *

T’Challa cleared his throat when Erik didn’t immediately look at him.

”N’Jadaka.” Erik snorted, tracing shapes on the floor with his right hand, still not looking at T’Challa.

”That’s not my name.” T’Challa frowned. He walked over to where Erik sat and crouched down, arms resting on his knees.

”So, y’all can see me through that fancy wall, right?” T’Challa blinked.

”I- Yes, Shuri and I can-” Erik smirked, interrupting T’Challa.

”That your little sis? She can see us right now?” T’Challa paused, considering Erik’s eyes before continuing.

”...Shuri can see us through the wall while she is in her lab, yes. That feature is a safety precaution, however. We do not use it t-” Erik moved forward, pinning T’Challa to the ground by his shoulders.

”What does she do if I do this?” T’Challa didn’t answer, the unexpected push having knocked the air out of him. He stared at Erik, lips slightly parted.

Erik’s expression darkened.

They stayed like that for a few seconds before Erik shook his head, backing off.

”Why’d you lock me up like this ‘stead of letting me die?” T’Challa didn’t answer, sitting up from his position on the floor.

“...I want you to trust me. I trust _you_.” Erik sneered, crawling a bit closer to T’Challa.

”Yeah? You trust me?” T’Challa kept his gaze trained on Erik, muscles tensing as the other grew closer.

”What would happen if I broke that trust, hm? If I hurt you?” T’Challa sucked air in through clenched teeth, eyes closing, as Erik crawled on top of him.

”The- The failsafe would trigger and it would- and it would cause you to become unconscious,” he mumbled, thought process slowing down. Erik chuckled.

”That’s not really trust then, is it? If you got this whole ass plan to make sure I don’t snap and kill somebody, you think I’m dangerous, right?” T’Challa opened his mouth to respond, but said nothing when golden canines glinted in the corner of his eye, so close to his throat.

They stilled there, just barely brushing his skin, and retracted, Erik laughing in T’Challa’s ear. T’Challa’s eyes opened slowly and followed the scars he could see across the other man’s body.

* * *

“You are not his therapist!”

”I am aware of that, Okoye, but-” The woman’s eyes burned him into silence.

”Then why does Shuri tell me that you visit every day to _“talk”_ to him? Why have you not informed the council of his fate yet? Why are you stalling and stalling?” T’Challa winced.

”He needs someone to talk to-”

”What N’Jadaka  _needs_ is to face the council and deal with the matter of his actions. That is the only thing that man needs.” T’Challa fell silent, pacing.

“You asked me for advice and I told you what I thought.” T’Challa paused in his walking, opening his mouth. Okoye beat him to it.

“You could ask Nakia for advice. She knows vastly more than I about N’Jadaka, and gives much nicer advice.” T’Challa, despite himself, blushed at the look in Okoye’s eyes as she said those last words.

”I have not spoken to her since... two months ago.” Okoye nodded, taking a less aggressive stance.

”There are certain things that a king must do. That will never make anything a king does easy. Sometimes a king must make difficult decisions. N’Jadaka is simply one of those difficult decisions.” T’Challa stared up at the ceiling then down at his hands, staring as if they would give him the solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this is a blast, I’d like to thank all of y’all for the opportunity


	4. Chapter 4

“Nakia,” T’Challa said, the device shoved into his hands by Shuri pressed against his face.

Nakia laughed from hundreds of miles away, taking a sip of her coffee.

”Yes, my king? I did not expect to be getting a call from  _you_.” T’Challa smiled when she spoke, turning away in his chair from Shuri, who was grinning like wild.

”Why is it that I must use one of these devices just to speak with you? I cannot even see your face.” Nakia looked up at the window of the coffee shop, the streets of Beijing a familiar sight.

”I am in public, T’Challa. I cannot exactly be using our technology outside of Wakanda. Do you know the kind of looks I would get?” T’Challa’s smile widened.

”Maybe.” Nakia crossed her legs in her chair, leaning back.

”So, what is it that you need? Unless, of course, the king of Wakanda has enough time to be chatting with an old friend?”

”No, as much as I would love to simply chat, I have much less happy matters to discuss.” Nakia leaned forward in her seat then, frowning.

”What is it, T’Challa?” T’Challa took a deep breath.

”I need to ask you for advice with N’Jadaka.” Nakia paused.

”Excuse me? Has- What?” T’Challa closed his eyes, wincing.

”I- I haven’t- I- I made the decision to keep him alive.” Nakia nearly spit out her coffee.

 _“What!?”_ The patrons around her stared at her outburst, and she shifted in her seat, taking several breaths.

”What,” she started, strain evident in her voice. “Do you mean?”

”I kept- I told Shuri to save him, I could not just- I could not just let him die, Nakia! Surely you must understand.” T’Challa rested his free hand against his forehead, eyes opening to stare at the table he was seated at.

”How many people did you lie to, T’Challa, how many?”

”I- I did not ever say he was dead. The council and my mother and all of Wakanda know of his survival and have for over a month now.” Nakia glared at her coffee.

”You kept the greatest threat to Wakanda alive for over two months and did not even  _think_ to tell me? What- What advice do you need,” Nakia said, all initial warmth gone from her voice. T’Challa sighed.

”I have been waiting for N’Jadaka to fully rehabilitate before making him stand trial. He was, however, acting as king, and I was, for all intents and purposes, dead. I believe he should only be tried for his actions after learning of my survival, and that W’Kabi and all who fought with him should be tried as well. Council-”

”Is that all this is about,” Nakia asked, voice softened. “Is that all this is, T’Challa?” T’Challa frowned, hands tensing.

“No. I- I have been speaking with N’Jadaka every day since he has been conscious, short of a week now. I believe he needs someone to talk to,” he said, Nakia sighing. “I cannot just let him rot away in a cell, Nakia!”

”T’Challa.”

”Yes?”

”How has he been?” T’Challa licked his lips, suddenly dry.

”He seems stressed, as if he feels regret but cannot say.”

”Okay. Have-” She paused, drumming her fingers on the table.

”Have you considered that you could just be projecting what you want to see onto him?” T’Challa flinched, brow furrowing.

”I am not. He- In his eyes, I can see-”

”I am not doubting your judgement! I would just like you to consider that the next time you speak to him. That is my advice. I have to go now, T’Challa.”

”Alright. I am sorry for not speaking to you more often, Nakia.” Nakia sighed.

”I am too, T’Challa. Goodbye now.”

”Goodbye.” Nakia hung up, and T’Challa turned to see that Shuri had left the room, probably a long while ago.

* * *

“Hello.” Erik looked up.

”Hey.” T’Challa took a step closer.

”We need to talk.”

”I need a book.” T’Challa blinked.

”Or, like, anything. It’s just kinda... boring. Just sittin’ here. The only fun I have is talking to you, and I think I’m gettin’ Stockholm’s Syndrome,” Erik said, grinning. T’Challa nodded without listening, and Erik’s grin slipped slightly.

”Do you- Do you want to hurt me?” Erik raised an eyebrow.

”Shuri watching, no. You being you, yes. So, all things considered... yeah, prob’ly.” T’Challa frowned.

”You care about Shuri seeing me die?” Erik’s face became serious.

”No one should have to see their family members dead. Not even if that dead family member is you.” T’Challa tilted his head.

”But-”

“I know, maybe I’ve had a dramatic change of heart, whatever.” T’Challa’s muscles relaxed and he sat down in front of Erik.

”Shuri is not here. I let myself in.” Erik’s eyes flashed with something dangerous and T’Challa’s heart skipped a beat. Erik didn’t.

He surged forward without hesitation and wrapped his hands around T’Challa’s arms, forcing him to the ground, before grinning and leaning his face back. Before he could react, Erik smashed his head into T’Challa’s. T’Challa could hear ringing in his ears as his nose made an unfortunate cracking noise.

Erik took the other’s right arm and twisted it, T’Challa biting his lip to hold his silence. Erik frowned and twisted further, before bending it in an unnatural direction. T’Challa let out a pained gasp, eyes squeezed shut while his mouth was open. Erik laughed against T’Challa’s throat.

”If you could see your face right now...” He didn’t finish his sentence, shaking his head.

”Doesn’t matter anyway,” Erik said, holding both of T’Challa’s hands above his head by his wrists as he let his free hand punch T’Challa in the chest, knocking the air out of him with a sickening  _crunch._ ~~~~“Your sister’ll just patch you up.”

Erik sat back, observing his damage. He frowned when T’Challa reacted only by continuing to breathe heavily. His frown was forced into a twisted grin as he moved back, leaning closer.

”I could kill you if I wanted to. If it weren’t for the failsafe. Could you disable that if you wanted to?” T’Challa nodded, wincing. Erik sneered.

”Whatever. You won’t do it.” He rested his teeth on T’Challa’s neck again, and sighed, eyes closing contentedly.

”Damn, I wanna...” He trailed off, heartbeat in his ears. T’Challa held his breath.

Erik sank his teeth in, but just barely, and T’Challa’s vision flashed, breaths quickening. Erik pulled back, shaking his head at the blood rushing to his face.

”Can you just chill? I don’ need this right now.” T’Challa nodded.

” _Sorry_.”

Erik licked the blood off of T’Challa’s neck, pointedly not responding to the shiver it caused. He bit in again, teeth slotting themselves back in place, and bit in deeper, hands on T’Challa’s upper arms with a crushing grip. T’Challa’s hands clawed at the floor, teeth near destroying his lip.

Erik looked up.

”No,” he growled. “Stop, I wanna hear every little noise that mouth a’ yours makes, you feel me?”

T’Challa gasped in air, eyes hazy and far away.

”Wh-What? Why?”

Erik frowned.

His lips twisted in unnatural fashion and he got off of T’Challa. His eyes were focused on the blankness of one of the walls.

After a minute, he spoke.

”Leave.”

T’Challa moved his unbroken arm, bringing his hand to his neck. It pulled away smudged with blood. T’Challa stared at it.

”I said  _leave_ ,” Erik hissed, repeating himself. T’Challa nodded and kept nodding, still staring at his hand, still staring at it as he stumbled across the room. He closed his eyes when he opened the door and closed it behind himself, leaving a smudge of blood on the doorknob.

* * *

 ~~~~As soon as the door clicked shut, Erik closed his eyes. He walked over to the wall that the door was on and clenched a fist, pulling it back and hitting the wall. His eyes blazed in the silence as he kept going at the wall, hit after hit, until his knuckles started bleeding.

Then he kept going. The vibranium wall didn’t dent; it didn’t even move. Erik heard his fingers crack but kept going.

Both of his hands were already swelling, but he persisted, blood sliding down the wall without staining, only leaving a smudge.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haven’t checked for typos yet sorry lol
> 
> anyways it would MAKE MY DAY if y’all would leave comments. seriously.
> 
> THANKS

Shuri wiped her face roughly, looking over T’Challa’s vitals for the fourth time.

”Okay. Okay. You- You are fine.” T’Challa stood from the lab’s hospital bed, frowning as Shuri turned away, sniffling.

”Shuri, I am sorry.” The girl whipped back around.

” **No!** You do not get to talk to me right now. Do you- Do you know what it is like watching someone die at the hands of a  _monster_ only to have them nearly die again!?” T’Challa sighed.

”Shuri, the failsafe is fully functional- you tested it yourself! I was in no danger of dying.”

Shuri cried out and made to hit T’Challa, but fell short, stopping, staring at her feet. He silently wrapped his arms around her and she gripped his shirt tightly, shoulders shaking violently as she sobbed. T’Challa kissed her hair and whispered apologies into it one time, one hundred times.

* * *

”Please do not lecture me,” T’Challa said. Ramonda stared him down with eyes of stone.

”Please. I have heard enough from Shuri already.” The girl had not let T’Challa leave her sight the entire day since she had found him. Ramonda pursed her lips.

”I may no longer be Queen,” she started. “But I forbid you from interacting with N’Jadaka until you make a decision on what to do with the council.” T’Challa nearly objected, but held his tongue, Shuri’s drooping eyes still red.

”Yes, mother.”

* * *

The rest of the day was a blur, and T’Challa fell backwards into bed. His mind swirled with thoughts of Erik, but they were overpowered by the image of Shuri crying.

* * *

Erik stared at the wall, at the smudge of blood on the wall. He had not slept the night before. He had not eaten. His eyes were red and watered like tears from lack of blinking.

The door opened and Erik’s pulse quickened.

Shuri walked through, medical supplies in hand. Her face was a blank canvas. Erik swallowed his heart.

”Hey. Yeah, I remember you. Shuri, right?” Shuri looked up at Erik like winter would look upon trees, and he withered, falling silent.

”Show me your hands.” Erik stuck both of his hands out and Shuri set the supplies on the bed next to the man, opening a container of ointment. She slipped on medical gloves and applied the ointment to the man’s knuckles, joints healing in mere moments.

”Thanks,” Erik muttered, and Shuri gave a half shrug, picking up her things.

”Shuri.” The girl stopped at the door, not turning around.

”Is there any way you could hook me up with somethin’ to keep me busy in here?”

Shuri let out a long sigh and walked out of the room.

* * *

T’Challa flipped through papers, grimacing.

”Why are international affairs so complex?” Okoye smiled.

”Perhaps it is because both you and Wakanda are new to them, my king.” T’Challa nodded, stopping at a page with a signature marking.

”Perhaps. Our relationships with the rest of our Africa and with South America have both been going well, but Europe-” Okoye rolled her eyes.

”If they want something, say no. ...Mm. I have changed my mind. Say no regardless of context.” T’Challa looked up, smiling.

”Okoye! We should not discriminate.” The woman made an aggressive hand motion, gasping.

”Tell Europe that!” T’Challa laughed.

”You are beginning to sound like... Ah... it does not matter.” Okoye raised her eyebrows, standing up and gripping her spear firmly.

”Who, my king? That man? N’Jadaka?” T’Challa sighed, setting his paperwork down onto his desk.

”I- Yes. That is who I meant.” Okoye opened her mouth, but was interrupted by the flashing of T’Challa’s Kimoyo beads. An image of Shuri materialized above his wrist, and his sister was frowning.

”Hello Shuri,” T’Challa said, Okoye echoing the sentiment.

”Brother,” Shuri started. “You must come here, to my lab. I have to talk to you privately.” She winced.

”Sorry, Okoye.” Okoye nodded and tapped the base her spear on the ground in affirmative.

”Do not feel upset, Shuri. I fully understand.” She opened the door as Shuri’s image flickered away.

”King?” T’Challa nodded and stepped through.

* * *

Shuri grabbed T’Challa by the hand and pulled him down the stairs to her laboratory.

”Shuri, why are you running?” Shuri looked back at him with wide eyes but said nothing until they reached the bottom of the stairs.

”T’Challa, I know what mother said, but he- N’Jadaka has said he will not eat unless he can see you.” T’Challa raised his eyebrows.

”He said that?” Shuri nodded, holding onto his wrist tightly. She looked her brother in the eyes.

”Please, T’Challa. I know you will go in there to see him not matter what I say, but please be safe.” T’Challa sighed. 

“You sound like Nakia when you say my name in that way, Shuri.” His sister gained a faint smile.

”Good. Now, if you must, go.” T’Challa nodded and turned away, walking away.

”Are you listening?” Shuri tossed T’Challa a small flat disk the size of a dime in response, and he stuck it to the back inside of his collar.

”I promise to keep you safe this time, brother.”

* * *

T’Challa entered the room, pausing at the sight of a shirtless Erik, bandaged fists hitting a punching bag. He stopped, looking over at T’Challa with a cocky grin.

”Hey there, sweetheart!” T’Challa blinked, shifting his focus to the abandoned tray of food on Erik’s bed. He walked over.

It was simple; a glass of water, some yam and beef stew, and an apple. T’Challa frowned. He jumped when he felt hands at his waist, Erik resting his head on T’Challa’s shoulder.

”You supposed to be here, hun?” T’Challa’s limbs were all stiff, immobile in Erik’s gentle hold. Erik snorted.

”Don’t wanna talk. I get it. If you ever do though, hit me up, a’ight?” Erik picked up the apple and took a bite out of it in T’Challa’s face, before finishing it and going back to hitting the punching bag hung from the ceiling.

T’Challa stared and Shuri’s voice came to him.

”Does he even remember what- what happened yesterday?”

”I don’t think he cares,” T’Challa whispered, looking up when Erik chuckled, unwrapping his hands.

”Tell Shuri I said thanks, by the way. The punching bag is nice. I know she made this bitch outta somethin’ other than vibranium just so I could actually stand a chance at breaking it, which is cute.” T’Challa cringed.

”Ah, I will make sure to do that.” Erik strolled back over and sat down on the floor, laying back against the bed, T’Challa hesitantly joining him.

”I’m not feelin’ too good about that look you’re givin’ me. What’s up, man?” T’Challa averted his eyes, looking instead down at his hands.

”I am- I do not know.” He looked back up, searching for something in Erik’s expression.

”Why would you not eat until I came here to see you?” Erik grinned wider, but his eyes stayed the same.

”Got bored. Why do you care,” he asked, turning the question back onto T’Challa. T’Challa frowned, still searching.

”You are... an interesting man.” Erik’s brow furrowed and he looked away. T’Challa slowly moved in front of him, leaning in closely. Erik frowned.

”Get the hell out of my face.” T’Challa stopped when their noses were nearly touching, looking at Erik’s eyes. Not at Erik, but at his irises, at the pigment and shape.

”Fuck off,” Erik growled, but T’Challa didn’t relent, one of his hands reaching up to touch Erik’s face.

The hand never got the chance, his wrist caught up in Erik’s grasp.

”Why are you so afraid?” Erik laughed, the sound startling both of them.

”Afraid? I ain’t afraid.” T’Challa took a deep breath.

”What are you doing?” Shuri leaned forward in the chair at her lab console,her question falling on deaf ears.  

Considering himself momentarily, T’Challa leaned forward further, lips brushing Erik’s. Pulling back, Erik’s eyes were, indeed, filled with fear.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this lowkey blew up over night, I’m glad all y’all seem to like it tho bc it’s fun to write
> 
> I didn’t check for typos again but I’ll probably do that later
> 
> LEAVING COMMENTS BOOSTS MY SELF ESTEEM AND MOTIVATION. Y’ALL DON’T GOTTA, BUT IT WOULD MAKE MY DAY. THANKS

Erik sank down into the floor, then backwards into darkness. Images of his father holding him flashed through his mind rapidly- but only for a moment.

In a moment he was back and grabbed fistfuls of T’Challa’s shirt. 

”What _the fuck_ is wrong with you?!” T’Challa’s eyes widened, and he buried his face in the crook of Erik’s neck. Erik shook his head and pushed T’Challa off of himself, stomach swirling as if he had just woken up. He hissed at the fog in his mind and watched T’Challa stand up, following his movements as he stood also.

The room was silent, but Erik’s head was filled with noises. Noises that made him frown as he walked closer to the ever backing away T’Challa.

“You didn’t- You didn’t answer my question,” Erik muttered, T’Challa then trapped between him and the wall.

”I. Said. What _the fuck_ is wrong with you,” Erik whispered loudly.

Shuri stared intensely at the pair, hands ready to deploy the failsafe. Her hands, even while ready, shook slightly.

T’Challa licked his lips quickly, pulse fast and loud enough for someone halfway across the world to hear.

Erik’s hands clenched tightly, face burying fear with anger.

” _I am sorry_ ,” T’Challa mouthed, his eyes locked on the gritting of Erik’s teeth. Erik leaned into T’Challa’s throat and inhaled deeply, growling.

After he pulled back and saw the look on T’Challa’s face, he backed away, staring pointedly at the door. T’Challa blinked and followed the other’s gaze.

”Do you want me to go?”

Silence. Shuri held her breath.

Erik nodded, and T’Challa stared at his face, his expression, the sudden softness of it. Then he was gone.

* * *

Shuri opened her mouth to speak when T’Challa handed her the small listening pod from his shirt collar, but he stilled her with a look.

”Do not tell anyone of what you have seen here. Not even Nakia,” he added, raising his eyebrows at her blush.

”I- Can I at least ask you questions, brother?” T’Challa sighed but nodded, sitting in the chair closest to Shuri’s at the console. Shuri’s brow furrowed as she looked down at her hands folded in her lap.

”Well,”

* * *

That night, Erik thought of T’Challa. He sat up in bed and shook his head violently, eyes wild. The room was dark, but lights flickered on when he got up out of bed.

He crouched down and reached under it, pulling out a roll of wrap bandages. Dressing his hands in them, he took several deep breaths as he stood, walking over to the punching bag in his room.

He took his shirt off and discarded it on the floor, pulling his arms closer into his chest. Erik stared at the punching bag for over a minute before readying an actual hit.

He stopped short and frowned.

He thought of the overpowering sound of a rushing waterfall and hit the punching bag.

He thought of the sadness he always saw in T’Challa.  _Pity_. He hit the bag again.

He thought of T’Challa sitting at his throne with Erik’s necklace draped over his fingers, distant anger in the slouch of his shoulders. He hit the bag again.

He _tried not to_ think about the blatant regret that T’Challa’s shadow cast on him in the overwhelming last lights of a sunset.

The silence.

The contrast of metal slid in between bruised ribs and the feeling of warm, gentle arms around him.

The care to not hurt him, as if his death wasn’t a reality that he had caused.

Most of all, he thought of T’Challa’s face. Of the kindness in his eyes, of the patience on his lips and in his words, of the hope, the optimism in the way he walked and moved and touched the world around him, of the softness of his hands, of-

Erik’s muscles all tightened, heart pounding as he stood in front of the broken punching bag, spilling out sand. He breathed in and flinched.

”The fuck-” His face was trailed with drying tears, his knuckles with drying blood. His bruised fingers brushed the side of his face, feeling the small bump left there from the hole he’d chewed in the skin on inside of his mouth. He unwrapped his hands and dropped the bandages next to the sand.

His busted, dry skin itched, but Erik did not scratch it. His scars were a reminder enough of all that would do.

Erik shivered, but he shook the thoughts of the _warmth_ of T’Challa out of his head. He crawled into the suddenly stiff hospital bed and pulled his knees into his chest, hugging them.

* * *

T’Challa stretched, holding back a yawn. Okoye gave him a strange look.

”My king, are you alright?” T’Challa nodded absentmindedly.

”Yes, Okoye. I have simply been more restless recently.” Okoye frowned and took a step forward from her position at T’Challa’s office door.

”Why have you been restless, king?” T’Challa turned and gave a reassuring smile.

”It is nothing, Okoye, I have just been spending a lot of time thinking about how to deal with the European Union and the United States.” Okoye continued frowning, but have a short nod.

”Is there anything I could aid you in?” T’Challa paused, pursing his lips before slowly nodding.

”Hmm... Ah, yes, yes. Could you get me all of our information on N’Jadaka?” Okoye didn’t roll her eyes, but exhaled shortly through her nose.

”As you wish,” she said, brow furrowed. T’Challa raised his eyebrows, turning more towards her in his chair, and she elaborated.

”I... I think it is too early to tell the world about his survival, especially since you still have not yet had him stand before the council. Though, that is only my own opinion, and that choice is, ultimately, not mine to make.” T’Challa sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

”I am afraid that N’Jadaka, like vibranium, is a secret that can not be kept under wraps forever. He is still, at least in the eyes of the world, a citizen of the United States. I... I will figure this out on my own. Thank you, Okoye.” As he stood, she stood also, opening the door for him.

* * *

Shuri jogged down the stairs to her lab, making her way over to her main console. Swiping her hand, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

She grabbed a few things and ran to the door, opening it and shutting it a bit forcefully. Erik looked over from his sitting position on the bed and gave a weak smile.

”N’Jadaka! What- Are you- Are you alright? You look terrible!” Erik flinched slightly.

”Damn... You look great too, princess.” Shuri blushed.

”Ah, sorry! I did not mean offense, just... You look like shit!” Erik’s eyes widened and he gave a dry laugh.

”Thanks, I guess. Uh... Yeah, I’m good, just busted my knuckles. Your punching bag clearly wasn’t up to code, I could’ve fuckin’ looked at it wrong and it would a’ been done for.” Shuri rolled her eyes and walked closer.

”You look tired. I did not check but did you get much sleep?” Erik shrugged, looking away.

”Don’t remember. But if you get me somethin’ new, it better not be vibranium. Even if everything else is less strong, I don’t fucks with that shit I can’t break. Makes me feel weak as hell.” Shuri nodded, and Erik saw a faint smile on her face as she opened the container of ointment.

”Also, uh, Shuri?” The girl looked up from her task of rubbing the healing cream on his hands.

”Yes, N’Jadaka?” Erik looked away, at the wall.

”Can y’all tell... tell T’Challa not to come here? I don’t- I don’t wanna see him.” Shuri frowned but nodded, silently picking up her things and heading for the door, picking up Erik’s bloodied bandages on the way.

”Oh, and uh... Thanks for the whole fixin’ up my hands and shit.” Shuri nodded again, perhaps smiling to herself as she closed the door behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are past 100 kudos and I am  
> *a l i v e*

“You are saying you consider him to be innocent? Even after all he did? All the lives he _stole_?”

“Nakia,” T’Challa whispered, the hand not holding the device clenched around a familiar necklace. “That is not at all what I am saying.”

Nakia glared at a wall, taking several deep breaths.

”T’Challa,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “He could be considered by the US to be responsible for up to  _treason_. I do not want Wakanda’s first real impression on the world to be a man in a high tech suit giving asylum to a war criminal.”

T’Challa sighed, thumb running over and over the chain.

“I do not feel prepared to make a decision on this issue, but Okoye has made me aware that the council is becoming increasingly impatient. What other options do I have?” Nakia shut her eyes, sighing.

”The most _legal_ option at this point would be to turn N’Jadaka over to the US government. You would most likely still have to deal with the consequences of lying about his death-”

T’Challa frowned.

”-but, all things considered, Wakanda would escape relatively unscathed.” T’Challa set the necklace down and rubbed the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger.

”What of the worst case scenario?”

”Wakanda would be declared an immediate threat for protecting a man nearly responsible for the overthrow of every major government, having unauthorized war dogs in every recognized state, and for lying to the UN about whether or not a _dangerous terrorist_ was dead. Not a good look, and most certainly a path to war,” Nakia said, deadpan.

”I cannot let the US execute him, he is-” The hand Nakia was holding her phone with tightened, her jaw setting.

”This is not a matter of who N’Jadaka is, this is a matter of what he has done. Would you sacrifice an entire country- _your home, no less_ \- for one man?” T’Challa fell silent.

Nakia opened her eyes as he began speaking.

”I- I will consider your advice. I just- I have to go now.” Nakia’s brow furrowed.

”T’Chall-!”

T’Challa ended the “call,” eyes fixated again on the necklace on his desk.

* * *

Erik examined his face in a mirror, fingers tracing his reflection’s jawline. The mirror stretched half the span of the wall opposite the door and his head spun whenever he glanced at it.

When Shuri had told him that she thought he should have a mirror in the room, he’d asked why he would.

She responded after deep thought, saying that the addition of a mirror would give him “some time to reflect,” before muffling a poorly hidden giggle. He’d smiled before he thought about what his smiling meant.

Now, however, his hands were on his own shoulders. To be a physical thing in real existence, an active participant and not a third person observer.

He reflexively ran a hand through his dreads.

He had taken off his shirt- _what use did he have for it while alone?_ \- and was recounting all his scars, teeth clenching tighter after each ten, each twenty.

He didn’t bother to go further down than his waist, he had delved far enough into his history.

Shuri had cleaned away the sand and mess left behind, but had not yet replaced the punching bag.

Perhaps correlation, perhaps causation, but, for the first time in years, Erik let himself relax. His shoulders dropped down to normal height, and his stomach’s constant swirling slowed. He sat down on his bed and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

”If you got _any_ books- I ain’t even care if it’s a damn trigonometry textbook- please. I’m already dying and your council hasn’t even got their hands on me yet.” 

Erik didn’t receive an answer, but he knew Shuri was almost always there, or would watch the recordings.

He leaned back onto the bed with a sigh, not getting under the covers.

He yawned, but his eyes widened.

”Another thing. If you could get me, like, a clock. Feel like that’s simple enough. I’m goin’ insane in here.”

He glanced at the wall by the door and offered a toothy grin.

* * *

T’Challa walked down the stairs to Shuri’s lab, eyes scanning the room. He sighed.

He reached for the kimoyo beads on his wrist but shook his head, walking over to the console. Cautiously, he swiped his hand, and his eyes lit up when the glass activated, a smile on his face.

It fell slightly at the sight of a shirtless, half-asleep Erik, and he felt his eyes become fixated on the other’s scars.

Moving away from the console, he walked closer to the glass, going as far as reaching out to touch it.

He felt transfixed by the _peace_  on Erik’s face, by the slow up and down breathing movements of his chest.

At the sound of a cough, he near jumped out of his skin, blood rushing to his face. Shuri stood there, hands on her hips, and walked towards him with a raised eyebrow.

”Did I give you permission to come into my lab and stalk my patient?” T’Challa rubbed the back of his neck, not making eye contact with his sister.

”Ah, no, I am sorry.”

”Good. Now, I am going to be working on some stuff and I do not want to show you until it is done because it will ruin the surprise.” T’Challa laughed.

”Is that your way of telling me to leave?” Shuri shot him a devious grin.

”Perhaps... Now go!”

”Alright, alright,” T’Challa said, smiling as Shuri started pushing him towards the stairs. “I am going!”

He made the rest of his way to the stairs, before something tugged at his memory.

He paused at the base of the stairs.

”Wait, Shuri.” Shuri looked up from her walk back over to the console.

”Yes? What is it,” she asked, making her way over to him again.

T’Challa frowned, but jutted his hand forward. Shuri scowled, but brought her hands together, stomach swirling when a necklace with a ring was dropped into them.

”This was his, I... I knew you were disposing of all of his things, so I took it before- before all of this.” Shuri nodded solemnly.

”Please, give this to N’Jadaka.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more people have clicked on this story than I have ever spoken to in my entire life probably


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this is a hot mess

Erik scoffed, looking up at Shuri.

”You serious?” Shuri batted her eyelashes, barely holding back a grin.

”I am not sure what you mean by that, N’Jadaka.” Erik raised his eyebrows.

”You tellin’ me that this was the only book y’all had lying around? Seriously?” Shuri shrugged, setting the “AP European History” textbooks down by the bed.

”I mean... you said _anything_.” Erik blinked slowly, eyebrows still raised.

”Yeah... I’ll give y’all some time t’ get me dead anything else to read.” Shuri let out a laugh, heading for the door.

”I will do that, I am just a bit busy right now.”

”Too busy to give a man some decent nonfiction?” Shuri grinned to herself, but stopped short, her hand momentarily shooting to her pocket. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head and left.

* * *

T’Challa tapped his pen on his desk in the silence before looking up to see Shuri enter the room.

”Brothe- Where is- Where is Okoye?” T’Challa sighed.

”Okoye has decided to begin preparing her best in the Dora Milaje to start training new members.” Shuri frowned, and T’Challa elaborated.

”I think she believes there will be conflict soon, though hopefully this is the first time her intuition fails her...” Shuri stayed silent, walking closer and jutting out a hand stiffly.

”Ah? What is it?” When she dropped the ring necklace, T’Challa frowned as well.

”I... I could not. I _cannot_. It is not my place.” T’Challa nodded, and let his hand curl around the necklace, Shuri staring at her feet.

”And, there is another thing...” T’Challa closed his eyes as she spoke, feeling the chain in his hand.

”N’Jadaka had asked me a few days ago to not see you, ah... It simply coincided with you working more often.” T’Challa winced, but kept his eyes closed.

”I am still _formally grounded_ from being to his room-”

”And for good reason,” Shuri interrupted, pursing her lips.

”This is... This is something I believe would be best done by you.” T’Challa opened his eyes, nodding.

”Will you be joining me?” Shuri shook her head, eyes wide.

”No, I am very busy.” T’Challa raised an eyebrow but did not press her further, pausing before leaving her in his office as he made his way down the hallway.

* * *

Erik faced the mirror with eyes closed, relaxing into the rhythm of the deadlifts he was doing. He stood between his bed and the mirror, the bed’s shadow casting over closed books underneath.

Erik’s mouth shifted into a smirk when the door clicked open.

T’Challa paused, eyes immediately stuck on the reflection of Erik’s teeth in the mirror, blood running to his face. He coughed.

Erik’s eyes opened and met T’Challa’s in the mirror. His muscles stiffened.

T’Challa’s gaze fell to the muscles of Erik’s back when he set down the bar, heart in his throat. When Erik turned around, he looked away, taking shallow breaths.

Erik said nothing, walking around the bed towards T’Challa, eyes narrowed.

T’Challa shut his eyes and stayed put, the sound of Erik’s footsteps like his heartbeat in his ears.

T’Challa stuck out his arms, his eyes fluttering back open when he felt Erik press into them.

”N’Jadaka,” he whispered, hands curling at the scars.

Erik gritted his teeth, taking deep breaths. He looked down when T’Challa retracted a hand.

When his eyes fixated on the necklace in T’Challa’s hand, he froze, face contorting.

After a few moments of silence, he snatched it up and placed it around his neck, letting out a sigh and closing his eyes.

T’Challa felt Erik’s hands move from the wall to around him, pulling him closer. His own hands ran up Erik’s chest to his shoulders.

They stayed like that for a bit, and Erik chuckled, taking deep breaths of the side of T’Challa’s throat.

He leaned back with a soft grin. T’Challa’s grip on Erik’s shoulders tightened and he kissed the other in one short motion. He watched Erik’s pupils dialate as the man began to bite at T’Challa’s neck, trailing up to his jaw.

T’Challa felt Erik’s hands slide down to hold his waist. He leaned his neck back and Erik left bitemarks and bruises up and down it.

Erik paused, and looked into T’Challa’s eyes for a moment, his own eyes serious. Erik’s hands dipped down to grab T’Challa’s thighs and he picked him up. T’Challa buried his face then in Erik’s shoulder, hands moving from Erik’s shoulders and under his arms to reach Erik’s back. His fingernails dug into the dips between scars when Erik spread his legs apart, pushing him up against the wall again.

Erik shoved one of his legs between T’Challa’s, holding him up, and T’Challa winced. His blood was pounding in his ears.

”Hey,” Erik mumbled, picking T’Challa up again.

“You wanna go over t’ the bed?” T’Challa’s eyes widened and he nodded quickly. Erik smirked against T’Challa’s neck and turned around, carrying him over to the bed.

T’Challa hummed, eyes closing, when Erik laid down on the bed, T’Challa sitting on top of him. He laid against Erik’s chest and took deep breaths, Erik’s arms wrapping around his waist.

”We stayin’ like this?” T’Challa nodded against Erik and his eyes opened just enough to see the ring on the man’s necklace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accidentally deleted and had to rewrite this whole thing so sorry for any typos


	9. Chapter 9

T’Challa’s eyes opened to darkness and his heart fell, his hands grasping out.

They held on, and T’Challa stole breaths.

Suddenly, the lights turned up slightly, still dim, and he could see Erik in front of him, arms behind his head, eyes closed.

He stared, hands moving from Erik’s shoulders to his upper arms, a chill running up his spine when his fingers curled around Erik’s muscle.

”Mm. Hey.”

Erik sat up and moved his hands to hold T’Challa’s waist, pulling him back to press against his chest.

T’Challa adjusted himself in Erik’s lap and laughed, hiding his grin in Erik’s shoulder. Erik’s face flushed and he smirked.

”Shit, uh... Sorry. Can’t help it.” T’Challa hummed softly, spreading his legs a bit more around Erik.

”I do not mind.” Erik stared up at the ceiling, gritting his teeth.

”Fuck. Okay.”

They stayed like that, until one of T’Challa’s kimoyo beads began flashing. He frowned and sat all the way up, pulling away from Erik.

”Ah... That is probably Okoye. What time is it?” He looked around the room, then at Erik’s face.

”No idea. I asked ya’ sis to put a clock or somethin’ in here, but I’m guessin’ she didn’t wanna do that while were... y’know. Like this.” T’Challa nodded.

”I should most likely leave then. I do not want the Dora Milaje to come looking for me.” Erik winced when T’Challa moved to get off of the bed.

”You’re not gunna- not gunna help me with this?” T’Challa laughed, heading to the door.

”No! Perhaps later!” He left the room, shutting the door softly.

Erik groaned, his head falling back as his eyes closed.

Opening one, he looked over at the wall by the door, offering a tired grin.

”Sorry, might wanna tune out now, Shuri.”

* * *

Okoye was indeed waiting inside the door to his bedroom, eyes hardened. T’Challa froze, looking away from her.

”My king,” she hissed. “Where were you?”

”I was at Shuri’s lab,” he said, voice quiet. Okoye raised an eyebrow.

”You were there the whole night?” T’Challa felt blood running to his face and nodded, the words caught in his throat. Okoye sighed, lips pursing.

”You were talking to that- that _traitor_?”

”Yes, we were- we were talking,” T’Challa said, mouth dry. Okoye glared but did not press him further about it.

”You know that you are forbidden by the Queen Mother to speak to him.” T’Challa nodded wordlessly.

”I am aware you are King now, but do not let me find you absent from your bedroom again. I expect to see you in the dining hall.” T’Challa stayed frozen and Okoye walked by him.

She stopped short just before leaving, eyes on his throat. She clicked her tongue and walked out, closing the door behind her.

T’Challa let out his breath. He hardly took two steps before his kimoyo bead again flashed. He answered it and Shuri appeared, from her hair to her shoulders. He winced when he saw her furious blush.

”Ahh... What is it?”

”My brother- you... You should get ready as quickly as you can.” T’Challa tilted his head, and Shuri elaborated.

”Nakia is here.” T’Challa froze, eyes wide.

”Sh-Shuri, can you please promise me that you will not speak to Nakia of- Nakia of anything that N’Jadaka and I have done?” Shuri nodded quickly, her eyes closing.

”...Y- Yes, but you should hurry. I must go get ready also. I believe I have stalled her, but she could be heading upstairs to see you. Goodbye now, Brother.” T’Challa nodded back and the hologram disappeared, his heart racing.

* * *

Nakia took a deep breath and rapped her fist on T’Challa’s office door. She frowned.

Turning her head, she saw T’Challa walking down the grand hallway towards her, smiling warmly.

”Ah, Nakia! Shuri has only just told me that you had arrived in Wakanda.” Nakia smiled back, taking T’Challa into an embrace. After a second, they pulled away, and Nakia spoke.

”Beijing has not been fully helped, but there are more pressing matters much closer to home.” T’Challa raised an eyebrow.

“Nairobi elections. I trust Shuri has finished the vests for me?”

”She did not tell me she was working on anything, she simply said she was busy... Ah, it is Shuri. I am confident that she is done,” T’Challa said, smile widening.

As if on cue, Shuri appeared at the end of the hall, heading towards them.

”Nakia! I have your things ready, you may head down to my lab when you like and pick them up.” Nakia nodded, and hugged Shuri tightly.

”I might have missed you more than your brother.” Shuri giggled, pulling away.

”Mother is waiting for us in the dining hall with Okoye. We should go.”

* * *

Ramonda smiled warmly at Nakia, who kissed her cheeks, smiling as well.

”My Queen,” she said, and Ramonda laughed, sighing.

”Nakia, I am not your queen anymore. If anyone here is fit to be queen, it is you,” she teased.

”Ay, Mother, you know how I feel about that.” Ramonda grinned as Okoye pulled out a chair at the head of the table for T’Challa. Shuri snorted.

”Hmmph. T’Challa has his own personal chair-pulling door-holder, and yet I must pull out my own chair, even on special occasions? I am a princess.” Okoye grinned and winked at her, Shuri smiling.

”He is simply incapable of pulling doors and chairs himself, my Princess. It is quite sad.” Shuri giggled and T’Challa rolled his eyes, Shuri sitting down next to him.

Ramonda took the seat on the other side of T’Challa, Nakia on the other side of Shuri.

“So,” Ramonda started. “Tell us about your plans, Nakia.”

Nakia blushed, smiling.

“It is not too interesting. I am going to be going to Nairobi, in Kenya. There will be an election there soon, and there is much talk of the election being... unfair.” T’Challa frowned.

“I am not there to save the election, but there are already protests, and protesters being killed by police. Especially so in Nairobi, one of the largest Slums on this continent! These are people without hardly any money being gunned down!” Ramonda nodded, leaning in intently. Shuri simply stared with wide eyes.

“I plan to hand out vests to protesters, and perhaps some cloths and water for any tear gas.” Okoye shook her head slowly.

“They would do those things to their own people,” Ramonda asked. Nakia nodded.

“This is why I feel so deeply about this, enough to leave Beijing. Wakanda is much closer to Kenya than China, so I thought there would be no harm in stopping to say hello. That said, I must leave soon.”

“Thank you for stopping to speak with us, Nakia. Would you like Okoye and I to see you off? I am getting the feeling that “soon” means today, not tomorrow.” Nakia nodded.

“Yes, thank you, my king.” They stood and Okoye followed T’Challa and Nakia out.

As soon as they were outside, in the open, Nakia turned on T’Challa, eyes blazing.

Back in the dining room, Shuri mentally said a prayer.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw scenes
> 
> i am very tired and VERY sick so sorry if anything is OOC or just poorly written
> 
> haven’t written nsfw in a while, might be rusty.

Okoye’s eyebrows raised, but she stayed put by the doorway as Nakia dragged T’Challa by the collar farther into the open field.

”Why has Shuri told me that you have lain with N’Jadaka? _Hm!?_ Is she lying?” T’Challa blushed, averting his eyes.

”I have not- I have not lain with him! Well, I have lain _in bed_ with him, but-” Nakia slapped him, eyes narrowed. T’Challa winced, the skin on his face raised just slightly.

”Do you honestly believe that whether or not you have lain with him is my primary concern? He is a prisoner of war, wanted by the US, presumed dead by _the world_ , and you have become attached!” Okoye smirked as she watched the two’s exchange.

“Ay, Nakia, I am sorr-” Nakia glared at T’Challa, lips pursed.

”I cannot believe that you let these feelings override your logic. You know you must make a decision, and that this will only complicate matters further, yes?” T’Challa nodded silently, staring at his shoes.

”The next time I speak to you, I will expect you to have come to a consensus on what you will be doing about N’Jadaka.” She walked off without further comment, heading towards the ship takeoff area.

Okoye walked over slowly, smile still on her face.

”Nakia has not changed one bit,” she said. T’Challa watched her form get smaller in the distance, one of his hands touching the side of his face.

* * *

T’Challa stared at himself in the mirror, splashing water onto his face. He closed his eyes, running both hands back through his short cut hair.

”What is wrong with me?” His mumbled question echoed in his ear.

T’Challa’s eyes opened and focused on the droplets of water dripping from his lips. He shivered.

* * *

“Hey.”

T’Challa did not respond, shutting the door softly behind himself. Erik set down his book and raised an eyebrow.

”You need somethin’?” T’Challa still stayed silent, walking over and sinking to his knees in front of Erik.

He reached out his hands to tug at Erik’s sweatpants but Erik grabbed one of his wrists, eyes wide.

”What’re you doin’, cuz?” T’Challa flinched, his skin going slightly ashen as he pulled off Erik’s pants. Erik let go of his wrist in favor of stroking T’Challa’s hair, frowning.

T’Challa leaned into the touch before taking off Erik’s boxers as well, face burning under Erik’s gaze.

”You’re sure you want this? I’m not tryna... I’m not tryna hurt y- Shit,” Erik whispered, something in his stomach twisting at the way T’Challa was so precise, at the way his eyes were glazing over with obedience as he took Erik into his mouth, hands shaking.

T’Challa stared up at Erik with his pink-brown lips and dark, round eyes, and Erik shivered, entranced.

He frowned when he saw tears starting to pool in T’Challa’s eyes, those eyes never leaving Erik’s.

“Woah, hey now, you cryin’? C’mere, I got you.”

Erik held T’Challa’s face, a hand brushing away his tears. He ran one hand back through T’Challa’s short hair. The other stayed on his face, thumb rubbing the side of his cheek in circles.

Erik smiled when he felt himself in T’Challa’s mouth momentarily, through his cheek.

”Don’t cry, you’re doin’ such a good job, you’re so good for me...” T’Challa’s eyes were so wide, and still slowly spilling tears. Erik hummed, moving T’Challa’s head for him with one hand.

Erik flinched when T’Challa made a strange, soft choking noise. He bit down on his tongue and kept going, a spark running through him every time T’Challa struggled to breathe.

He hissed through clenched teeth and pulled T’Challa’s head back, vision flashing for a split second as ropes of cum laced T’Challa’s face, as it dripped from his long, long eyelashes to his cheeks.

T’Challa took a deep breath and wiped his face off messily with a hand, looking away with downturned eyes.

He stood up. Erik reached out his arms, moving to kiss him, but T’Challa pulled away, shaking his head.

He quickly left the room, leaving as quietly as he arrived.

* * *

T’Challa fell to his bedroom floor and curled up, taking deep breaths.

”Hardly kinglike,” Okoye said, standing in his open doorway. T’Challa’s face darkened and he scrambled to get up. Okoye smiled, putting a hand out.

He blinked at it but took it, lifted up.

”The council was just ordered by Queen Mother to convene in about an hour. It would do you good to come up with something to do about N’Jadaka.” T’Challa winced.

”Is she that eager for a decision?”

”I believe Nakia may have told her something, but that is just my guess.” T’Challa frowned, his opposite hand brushing the ring on his finger.

”I see. I will prepare myself. Thank you, Okoye.” Okoye nodded sharply and stepped backwards out of his room, shutting the door.

* * *

Erik yawned loudly, eyes closed to the glares he was receiving.

”N’Jadaka. What have you to say about accusations of treason?” Erik pursed his lips, eyes opening slowly.

”I don’t know why y’all askin’ me. Do you think I chose to be here? You think I wanted to be kept alive? You should be askin’ your king,” he said, making eye contact with T’Challa. T’Challa looked away, staring instead at his own hands, at his ring.

“Enough of this,” Ramonda said, tilting her chin up slightly. “N’Jadaka, do not shift blame. Speak for yourself and yourself only.”

Erik shot Ramonda a smile, eyes darkening.

”First of all, don’t tell me what to do. You’re _the king’s_  mama, not mine.” The council elders shifted in their seats, and Ramonda looked at T’Challa.

”Let him speak,” T’Challa sighed. Erik’s grin widened, and he flashed his golden canines at Ramonda.

”Thanks, T. Now, secondly, I don’t think I committed treason at all. Me fighting _your king_  after seein’ he was still alive was just a continuation of the fight, yeah? He never yielded? Yeah, that’s all it was,” Erik said, not looking away from Ramonda, eyes narrowed with his smile.

”Your acting as king while T’Challa lived was not in accordance with tradition, and-”

”Abandoning one of your own wasn’t _in accordance_ with tradition either.” Ramonda bit back her words, her jaw setting.

”For the time being,” T’Challa began, “I will personally be responsible for N’Jadaka. Shuri and her assistants are no longer going to supervise him. Although there will still, of course, be Dora Milaje, I believe that N’Jadaka should be treated less like a patient or experiment and more like a prisoner of war. He will be punished for violating stated tradition, though not put to death. He is, whether we like it or not, one of our own blood, so he must be judged by us, not by the United States.”

T’Challa glanced around the room before stopping on his mother. Ramonda nodded sharply.

* * *

T’Challa waited until it was only himself, Erik, and Okoye present before exiting the room, Erik following slowly.

As soon as they were out of sight of the Dora Milaje, T’Challa turned and grabbed one of Erik’s arms, undoing his handcuffs. Erik raised an eyebrow, a smirk growing.

”You need something?” T’Challa’s face burned and he pulled Erik by the hand towards his room.

T’Challa pushed Erik in front of him into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

He had hardly gotten inside the room when he was shoved up against a wall, face darkening as blood rushed to it.

Erik growled, using one hand to pin T’Challa’s wrists above him to the wall. The other was busy undoing the buttons on T’Challa’s tunic, one by one. Erik let out a sigh when he was finished and pulled it off of T’Challa, letting him go from the wall.

T’Challa slid his hands under Erik’s shirt, helping him with it. As soon as the shirt was up off of Erik’s body, Erik pulled back T’Challa’s head and sucked marks onto his throat.

”Gunna let me fuck you?” T’Challa nodded quickly, fingernails digging into Erik’s shoulders as he picked T’Challa up.

He set T’Challa down on his bed and followed the pointed finger over to his bedside table, opening it’s drawer to retrieve a small bottle. He looked back over.

”You got condoms?” T’Challa frowned.

”What is a _condom_?” Erik closed his eyes and shook his head, grinning.

”I’ll take that as a no.”

He went to stand by the side of the bed in between T’Challa’s legs, pulling off T’Challa’s underwear with both hands, sliding it off.

T’Challa grabbed the bottle from the bed, uncapping it. His legs spread a bit wider and he eased a finger inside himself. Erik simply watched, hands gripping T’Challa’s thighs.

T’Challa added another finger and Erik could see him starting to fray at the seams, T’Challa wincing as he added a third finger much more quickly. Erik rubbed his hands up and down T’Challa’s thighs.

T’Challa pulled his fingers out with a shudder and wiped the excess lube off on his sheets. Erik was already stripping the rest of the way down, pants and boxers in a pile on the floor next to the bed.

T’Challa handed Erik the tube, eyes strained and teeth somewhat clenched. Erik uncapped it and lathered himself up, pausing when he finished. He was lined up with T’Challa’s hole when he stilled.

”This definitely what you want?” T’Challa looked up at Erik and shivered, turning over on the bed to lay on his stomach, legs hanging off of the side.

”Damn. Okay.” He pushed into T’Challa just slightly and felt his back arch under his hands, smirking. They stayed like that, and T’Challa slowly adjusted, muscles relaxing.

Erik leaned down to T’Challa’s ear to practically purr, beginning to push further into him. T’Challa gripped the sheets tightly, shoulders rolling in rhythm with Erik’s slow movements.

”You all keyed up, baby?” T’Challa nodded, humming softly when all of Erik’s scars were pressed against his back.

”Yeah, bet you are. Fuck, wanna fuck you into this bed ‘till you scream. You want that, want me to make you scream?” T’Challa pushed his hips backwards and shuddered, toes curling.

”Mm, yes, I- Oh-” T’Challa leaned down, biting the covers. Erik raised an eyebrow.

”Oh no, I don’t think so,” Erik growled, and he wrapped a hand around T’Challa’s throat, pulling his head back. T’Challa let out a breathy choking noise and Erik’s stomach twitched.

”Are you alright with- you alright with this?” T’Challa whined, fucking himself back and forth onto Erik and stuttering out a yes.

His hand tightened and a surge of adrenaline rushed through him, his other hand’s fingernails digging deep into T’Challa’s hip, leaving dark bruises hidden under dark skin.

Erik finally pushed _all_ the way into T’Challa, and the man underneath him let out a small sigh, focusing on the way that the ring resting on his back slowed, the ring hanging from the chain around Erik’s neck having been sliding back and forth, tracing cold lines through his shoulder blades.

T’Challa held his hands together at the wrists, sliding them across the bed in front of himself. Erik raised an eyebrow when T’Challa looked back at him with his wide, round eyes.

”You lookin’ for me to tie you up by those pretty wrists, kitten?” T’Challa nodded, a chill running down his spine.

“Yessir,” he mumbled, voice fading at the will of Erik’s hand. Erik chuckled, leaning down to kiss the back of T’Challa’s neck.

“Can’t believe the king of the most advanced country in the world likes getting choked, tied up, and dicked down by his cuz. Can you see the looks on the faces of your family if they ever found out? Damn.”

T’Challa smiled into the covers, eyes closing. Erik looked up from his job of kissing T’Challa’s neck and back, sighing.

“They’d- We- Wakanda does not have the same taboos as-” T’Challa lifted himself up to speak more clearly, but Erik pushed him back down, clicking his tongue.

”I wanna get back to the more important stuff. You’re asking me to tie you up. I think I know what that means, but I’m gunna let you tell me. I don’t wanna force that on you.” T’Challa huffed, Erik’s grip on his throat loosening.

”I want- I want you to- Ah... Can you not just-” Erik shook his head.

”Mm. No. Tell me everything you want.” T’Challa buried his face in the bed cover.

“I want you to- No, I _need_ you to do whatever you want to me. Just- I need you to- to _use me_.” Erik's hips snapped forward and his left hand moved to T’Challa’s back, resting on it as it arched.

”I don’t think you know how dangerous that is. You really want to see what I’d do t’ you? Really?” T’Challa nodded.

”I guess. It’s your funeral, not mine.” Erik trailed off before grinning against T’Challa’s skin.

”You gunna ask me nicely, though?”

“What?” T’Challa tried to turn back around to look at Erik’s face but stopped when Erik’s right hand tightened around his throat.

”I asked if you’re gunna beg me for it. Are you? Do you like that? Do you like begging, kitten?” T’Challa sucked in air through clenched teeth.

”Yes- I- ...” Erik laughed, though in a less light way, his hand still slowly tightening.

”C’mon baby, say it, just use your words.” T’Challa let out a choked sound and Erik shushed him, rubbing his left hand in circles against the small of T’Challa’s back.

”You can take your time.”

Erik’s hand unclenched and T’Challa gasped in air.

 _”Please.”_  

Erik hummed, smirking.

” _”Please”_ what, hun?” T’Challa let out a groan, hands struggling to stay together on their own.

”Please- Please do what you wish with me, I swear to you that I truly mean this.”

”You want a safeword or anythin’?”

”Safety precautions are not- are not real trust, correct?” Erik’s eyes lit up and he took his hands off of T’Challa, pulling out of him. T’Challa let out a breath, muscles relaxing against his bed. He closed his eyes as Erik walked away.

”Where- What-”

”There is- Just open my bottom dresser drawer,” T’Challa said, resting his forehead against the sheets. Erik chuckled, shaking his head.

”You’ve gotta whole drawer just for- Oh wow.” T’Challa smiled.

”I do, yes.” Erik stood up from his crouch and walked back over, immediately taking both of T’Challa’s wrists in one of his hands. T’Challa held his breath, only exhaling when Erik was done tying his wrists together above his head.

”This have vibranium in it?” T’Challa nodded, shoulders relaxing. Erik pushed back into T’Challa with no warning. T’Challa clenched his teeth for a moment, letting out a short breath.

”Actually, wait a minute.” He pulled out and flipped T’Challa over so that he was laying on his back, before pushing back in. T’Challa’s eyes opened and he stared at Erik. Erik grinned down at him, hands spreading T’Challa’s thighs.

”Y’know,” he started, fingers beginning to dig into T’Challa’s inner thighs. “I think about you a lot.”

T’Challa blinked, frowning slightly.

“Still have dreams ev’ry night. About just wrapping my fingers ‘round your throat and killing you.” T’Challa shivered but said nothing, looking away from Erik’s face.

”Think about biting open all your veins. You’d probably like that, though,” Erik said, leaning down. T’Challa bit his own tongue, still averting Erik’s gaze, shoulders tense.

”You seem to like biting. I’m gunna give you some marks in places you can’t hide, I’d love to see what _Auntie_ would have to say about them.” T’Challa’s hands twisted in the rope when Erik bit his shoulder, nearly breaking skin. He licked the mark and leaned back.

Erik moved T’Challa’s thighs, hooking T’Challa’s ankles up onto his shoulders. T’Challa let out a shudder and his toes curled.

“God, I’d love to feel you just choking underneath me until you straight up die. Just staring at your pathetic little face. You’ve got a pity face, you know that? Like you pity me.” Erik hissed, a hand leaving T’Challa’s leg to squeeze his neck.

”I hate it. I could kill you right now. No one could stop me. I might.” T’Challa’s eyes watched the ring of Erik’s necklace swing like a pendulum.

“You even fucking listening to me? I want to kill you.” When Erik growled, T’Challa stopped biting his tongue and let out a soft noise.

”Does the thought of me killing you turn you on?” T’Challa whined, looking away and to the side.

”You’re such an actual freak. You’re disgusting.” Erik started moving more roughly, fucking T’Challa as deeply as possible.

”You’re so desperate, yeah, so- ah, shit... So needy for me, aren’t you?” T’Challa lett out louder, top-of-his-throat, high pitched noises.

T’Challa’s breaths came short, cut off by Erik’s bruising grip, and the edges of his vision became dark and fuzzy, heartbeat loud in his ears.

Erik hissed at the dazed look in T’Challa’s eyes, heart pounding in his chest when T’Challa’s wrists began struggling in the rope, fingers curling to reach his throat, eyes widening. Erik’s hand felt the movement of T’Challa’s throat as he swallowed, fighting for air.

T’Challa saw dots and blackness, Erik’s golden canines glinting distinctly in his wide grin, nothing else visible.

Erik stared into T’Challa’s wide brown eyes, the parted lips. He frowned. Erik let him go, and T’Challa sucked in a gasping, scratchy breath. T’Challa moved in his binds, body inching away from Erik, eyes never closing, still wide.

Erik stops moving, and reached to untie T’Challa’s wrists, movements slow and sluggish. Erik’s eyes glazed over when T’Challa pushed him backwards with free hands, scooting all the way back onto his bed.

He got dressed in slow motion, ears suddenly ringing, T’Challa’s wide brown eyes never leaving him.

As soon as he had closed the door behind himself, T’Challa curled up in his sheets, shoulders shaking as he buried his face in his pillow.


	11. Chapter 11

Nakia leaned against the Jeep’s window, the engine grumbling to life.

”You are sure you do not want to go to the airport, ma’am?” Nakia glanced to her right at the man sitting in the driver’s seat.

”Yes, I am sure.”

”It is a long way to Nairobi.” Nakia sighed.

”I am aware, twelve hours.” The man placed both hands on he steering wheel but paused.

”You know, it is very dangerous for a woman such as yourself to be traveling alone like th-”

”If I was looking for someone to have a friendly chat with, I would be incredibly thrilled. However, considering I am paying you to  _drive,_ it would be best if you would stick to your job description, hmm?” The man blinked at Nakia, unmoving. Nakia’s stare became colder as she leaned closer to him.

”Are you deaf or simply stupid? _Drive_ ,” she hissed, the man nodding quickly and stepping on the accelerator.

* * *

Shuri looked at the empty room with drooping eyes, hair a frizzled mess with flyaway curls. She closed her eyes and walked out, shutting the door softly.

Arriving at her console, she made a few hand motions and the previously occupied room folded into the wall before settling flat with a deep _click_.

The sound echoed once, and was gone, and Shuri felt a heaviness in her stomach, a heaviness in her bleary eyes and slouched shoulders.

She glanced up to see Okoye standing behind her silently, lips pursed and eyes far away.

”Oh, I did not- I did not hear you come in, Okoye.” Okoye’s lips curled in a faint smile, but her eyes stayed gone.

”That is not exactly a surprise considering your... inadequate sleep.” Shuri laughed, rubbing the back of her neck, eyes struggling to stay bright.

”Yes, I have been very busy with work recently, and-”

”What has been troubling you, my princess?” Okoye was finally looking at Shuri, eyes staring straight into hers.

”Well, I... I think I am worried about my... worried about my brother. And what I have seen so far and done so far has not eased my concerns, if anything I have only deepened them! I- Okoye,” Shuri said, interrupting herself.

”Yes?”

”Can you please watch out for T’Challa? I know he is king and I know, I know with all of my heart, that he is trying to do the right thing, but I fear he is going down a dangerous path.” Okoye nodded, and held her arms out.

Shuri hesitated, eyes on Okoye’s arms, then Okoye’s eyes. She moved forward, and let out a deep sigh, Okoye embracing her.

”I promise to you that I will keep T’Challa safe.”

* * *

Erik grinned at the guard as she walked him down the hallway.

”Were the handcuffs needed? I’m not goin’ anywhere anytime soon, trust me.”

Ayo didn’t spare him a look, simply stopping in front of an ornately decorated door.

Pressing her hand against the spot where a doorknob should have been, the door slid open, and Ayo led Erik into the room.

”This is where you will be staying until further notice, per the king’s orders.” Erik looked around the room. It was already set up with a punching bag and bookshelves of Wakandan history and tradition. His grin faded into a faint smile.

“Per the queen mother’s request, however, you will not be permitted to roam free about the capital. T’Challa has told me that he will explain your boundaries and limitations to you more intimately at a later time.” Erik raised an eyebrow.

”He’s keeping me on a leash, huh?” Ayo’s expression reminded stagnant.

”I am not sure what you are referring to.” Erik sighed, shoulders rolling back.

”Forget it. Can you leave me alone now? I’d like some private time if you wouldn’t mind.” Erik watched Ayo’s lips purse just slightly while she removed his handcuffs, eyes locked on his arms. Erik smirked.

”Chill, I’m not gunna hurt you!” Ayo looked up at him slowly, all emotion drained from her face. Erik’s smirk dropped.

”Fine, damn.” Ayo left with the handcuffs, the door sliding shut with a firm thud.

* * *

T’Challa sighed at the tone and prerecorded message, setting the device down.

His fingers tapped the desk as his muscles tensed, eyes closing.

After a silence, he stood, reorienting himself. He stared at his door and took a step forward, legs unstable.

He shook his head, taking a more firm step, and walked, opening the door. Shutting the door. Simple tasks. He could feel pressure on his ears. Had he eaten yet?

Movement, and his legs, one foot and the next.

Then faint ringing. The harder he focused on anything else, the louder it got. The closer he got.

And at eardrum breaking louds, it fell away. And T’Challa opened his eyes.


End file.
